


Always.

by ziamxo



Series: The Elephant [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Sex, badumtsss, liam figures it out, lots of malik family love bc who doesnt love that, no actual smut here though bc i suck, okay im done, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2370692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziamxo/pseuds/ziamxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam's still living out his dream and Zayn's heart still remains on his sleeve. </p><p>Or the one where Liam's a solo artist two years after 1D's breakup, Zayn's spending more time with his family, and the promise that was once made, needs a little mending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, helloo! Shocked with myself that I actually managed to finish part two of this small little ficlet, I must say. But alas! Here it is. 
> 
> A maaassive thank you to the beautiful and wonderful [Jarka](http://niahms.tumblr.com) for going out of her way to help beta this for me, she is a dream!! Thank you, you da best! Go love her and read her wonderful things [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinexbomb/pseuds/sunshinexbomb) as well. :)

Life’s a funny thing, really. 

Time literally zooms past you and before you know it, days, months, years have long gone and then you’re left looking back on the memories that are closest to the heart. From the sweetest to the most painful. 

At least that’s the way Zayn is seeing it at the moment. 

He’s opening up a cardboard box, things he’d long stuffed in his parents’ home’s attic ages ago, really.

And.

Well.

 _Okay._

Zayn’s slim fingers reach for the item, the softness of the stuffed toy all too familiar as Zayn brings the elephant to eye level. The memory of how it’d come to Zayn’s possession two years ago coming back to him in an almost flashback state.

The phone in his pocket seems to burn a hole through the material, the thought of sending Liam a quick text about the great discovery he’d made while unpacking.

But.

(There’s always a fucking but.)

Right.

Liam’s probably performing this exact moment to his very own sold out stadium at the moment in Los Angeles. 

Zayn exhales a tired breath before pressing his lips together, his fingers tapping at the plush toy before settling for pulling out his phone.

They haven’t spoken in a long time. 

Such a long fucking time.

But that’s not even the worst thing of it all, really. 

It’s the fact that, well, they'd broken one of their promises.

They'd never done that before. 

But then all of their promises seemed to collapse after that, much like a domino effect. What the hell was Zayn supposed to do to stop it? He didn't carry some magical force that could hold friendships together for whatever time he desired. He didn't wish for something like that anyways, because that wasn't something pure, of complete value, was it? A forced friendship for the sole purpose of keeping his heart from aching? 

No, it _wasn't._

But the cause of his own heartbreak, Zayn realized, was from none other than himself. 

The relationship Liam had had with his girlfriend seemed to further advance and in time, Zayn was distant enough that Liam had confronted him on the matter.

_“Why are you avoiding me?” Liam had warily questioned, big, brown eyes trying and failing to reach for the whiskey colored eyes._

Zayn refused to have that particular conversation then or ever, really. Especially given the long fucking speech Liam had _practiced on Zayn_ when Liam had planned some extravagant date for _his_ two year anniversary with _her_.

Zayn had wanted no part-- none whatsoever. Yet he put up with it for the time that he did because he loved Liam, and he would’ve done anything for him.

Even if that meant handing Liam his heart and allowing Liam the power to hurt him that much more. 

But enough was enough, wasn’t it? 

Zayn had soon realized that he was hurting no one but himself by allowing himself to stay true to to a promise that had been broken long before it was out in the open. 

So he left the band.

And then, the band collapsed. 

After One Direction had taken their own routes, Zayn allowed himself to be the things he couldn’t be when he was in the group.

He’d gone lowkey, producing tracks here and there, getting into art and even so much as attending uni and getting a degree to further his love for English. He had decided approximately two and a half years ago, a few months before the band announced their split, he’d done the same with Perrie, knowing, just _knowing_ things would’ve never worked out with how different they were. In a sense, she’d become background noise, and when that had been voiced, he was hit with the realization that the reason for that stretched beyond Liam’s voice becoming his life song. 

Louis had gone for a more sociable direction, getting into football and now owning one of the best teams in England. As to whether or not he’s still with Eleanor, Zayn doesn’t doubt it. But he also can’t say he knows his shit because he clearly doesn’t.

Zayn’s a shit friend because he can’t even remember the name of Louis’s team. 

Niall had settled down, found a beautiful bird who laughed nearly as loud as him. Most would call it annoying, yeah, but Zayn had to acknowledge how endearing it all was. That’s as far as Zayn’s knowledge went, however, never really looking into the lives of others-- as shitty as it seemed (and was). 

Harry and Liam, though. Those two just. They erupted. Solo careers, platinum albums, sold out tours. It’s overwhelming to Zayn, the idea of them doing it all on their own, without the others at their side like they were so used to. 

But. 

It’s been years. 

If there ever was a time Harry or Liam missed being alongside the other three males, it sure as hell had passed by now.

Inhaling a sharp breath, Zayn finds himself on Liam’s twitter handle, the number of followers surpassing anything Zayn’s sure Liam could’ve ever imagined.

Zayn’s so proud, fuck.

He sees the small blended grey box indicated “is following you” and his lips curve up slightly. 

It’s been so long since they’ve had the chance to speak. 

So long that the thought of how they used to be, nearly attached at the hip, to this, thousands of miles away without much to hold onto anymore, causes an actual ache inside of Zayn’s bones. 

Zayn presses a thumb on his screen, redirecting himself to the main screen of Twitter before finding himself typing out a tweet. He presses the camera button, turning the front camera on before snapping a quick photo with the elephant, o shaped lips as his free hand has his index fingers pointing at the grey plush. 

**_“found a gud mate 2day! :) x”_**

and send. 

It’s impulsive and it brings him anxiety later in the night, but it needed recognition. The elephant Liam had gotten him when he was missing home the most deserved recognition. 

Zayn likes to think that Liam could've been home had he realized sooner. So, yeah, the elephant returns at an ace time. 

\--

“Baba!” Zayn calls out from the garage he’s currently standing in, he’s looking around for the hammer but _where the fuck?_ “I can’t find the hammer!” 

His father comes down the hall, peeking his head before fondly rolling his eyes. His dad lets out a dramatic breath of air before making his way over and then around Zayn, reaching into one of the top shelves with his hands patting at the wood before he comes in contact with, apparently, what he’s looking for.

Yaser holds the hammer in one hand, a raised eyebrow not too far behind.

“In my defense,” Zayn begins with hands raised up to his shoulders, “you never said that I’d find it on the shelf.” 

Yaser chuckles with a shake of his head before throwing an arm around Zayn’s shoulders and leading him back in towards the house. “Remember that time around two weeks ago when you were looking for your mobile and it was in your hand the entire time?” 

Zayn groans as they enter the kitchen, the smells of his mother’s cooking causing his mouth to water before turning back to his dad, “You lot let me look like a moron for a good five minutes!” he complains as he moves himself away from his dad’s arm, a laugh following, because _this_ has been the nicest thing since the band ended. Being able to spend time with his family, day in, day out. 

“I’m just saying,” his father laughs, going towards his mum, placing a kiss to her cheek. 

“Smells wonderful,” Zayn manages to hear Yaser say quietly before his attention is turned towards Waliyha who’s snatching up a bagel, dropping off this damned elephant into his lap, mumbling an, “almost lost its trunk to Rocky. Y’re welcome,” after taking a quick bite and excusing herself out of the room in a haste.

“Ay!” Zayn calls out, because, no. That’s not how they do things. He manages a quick look at the stuffed toy before Waliyha’s surprisingly already on her way back towards him.

“Sorry!” Waliyha apologizes. She’s taller, slim as always, with her hair pulled up into a simple bun. And. Oh, right. She’s not fourteen anymore, too. Two years later sure as hell makes a person grow up and all, but, Zayn still gets baffled at how his little sister isn’t really, well, little. “Jason’s waiting for me outside and I’ve got Uni classes in fifteen minutes, Zayn.” She informs, pressing a quick kiss to Zayn’s stubble-free face before waving off to her parents and only then finding her way out of their home. 

“Jason?” Zayn asks dumbfounded, both hands obliviously wrapped around the elephant, turning to his parents. 

“The enemy.” Yaser begins, a serious expression on his face that only breaks at Trisha’s light smack with the back of her hand to his chest. 

“Oh, quit it. He’s this lovely boy who so happens to be in Wal’s Econ class. No enemies are allowed with my children,” Trisha begins, reaching for the salt and adding it minimally to her soup. 

Zayn snorts before putting his hands up, along with the elephant this time around. “I said nothing.” Zayn points at his baba, "He did."

“Tattle-tale,” his father begins, a glare being sent in Zayn’s direction that truthfully only has Zayn grinning at his father’s behavior. “Anyways,” he begins, turning to Trisha’s smiling face, “now that _Zayn_ found the hammer,” a pause. A pause Zayn is sure is meant to indicate the lie and Zayn doesn’t stop smiling any less, “I need to go put up those photo frames or Safaa just might have my head. Save me a bit of that, will you?”

Trisha nods along as Zayn takes a seat at the island. He sets the elephant before him as he’s facing his mum with fingers skimming the softness of the elephant’s fake fur as his father makes his way out. It’s not like he’s hoping he’s right or anything, but he does see the way his mum’s smile falters and that immediately has him on high alert. 

“Mum?” he asks carefully, trying to read into her expression that is now looking at him with wide eyebrows in question. “Everything okay?”

Trisha grimaces, looking over at the stove and turning the heat dial down before wiping her hands on her apron that reads ‘World’s Best Cook!’ before reaching for something in her pocket.

Once Zayn identifies the object as his mum’s phone, he furrows his eyebrows. Trisha unlocks her iPhone, the click sounding in his ears soon followed by the press of buttons before Trisha is setting the phone onto the counter and sliding it over to Zayn, around the stuffed toy. 

“Liam called last night,” she says before Zayn even has the chance to see the call or the duration of said call on the bright screen. 

At the same time, he does and doesn’t want to know what Liam and his mum managed to talk about in two minutes and thirty-three seconds. It’s all really, well, shitty how his stomach still turns uncomfortably at the mention of his name even after all this time, but. 

It’s always been Liam, hasn’t it?

“Something happen to him?” Zayn questions nonchalantly, sliding the phone back towards his mum.

Trisha seems wary, unsure of what she should and shouldn’t say, but she speaks nonetheless without question and Zayn couldn’t be more thankful. 

“No, no, dear. He’s perfect. Just said he really missed us, missed you, and says he’s going to be done with tour in a month’s time, so,” she informs easily, as if she hadn’t thrown some metaphorical bomb of feelings and emotions that Zayn knows, knows, knows, he can’t deal with at the moment. 

Or probably ever.

Zayn tucks in his bottom lip before letting it waver off of his teeth, shrugging his shoulders.

“That’s sick, yeah? I bet he’s had an ace time and all. Touring and the like,” he says, using his hands awkwardly, not even _sure_ what the hell they’re trying to give away other than the fact that this conversation has made him feel uncomfortable. 

Trisha reaches across the island as best she can, resting a hand on Zayn’s cheek with her brown orbs staring straight at Zayn’s. “It’s okay to miss him, too, y’know.”

“I do miss him, ma,” Zayn starts, grimacing politely as he pulls away from her touch. “I miss all the lads, but. Like. I’m the the reason-- Like. I shouldn’t be dwellin--” he has to cut himself off because his eyes are watering and _fuck_ , he cannot do this right now. What the hell. 

“Oh,” his mum coos, making her way around the island and easily enveloping her son into her hands with Zayn’s chin hooking on top of her shoulder, nose burying into her hair as his lashes gather tears before they stupidly fall onto his mum’s cotton shirt. 

It’s so fucking _stupid,_ is the thing.

He wanted this, he wanted to be a family man and all-- wanted to be home. 

(And away from the pain. Payne. Whatever. Fuck. Now wasn't the time for his brain to spur with ridiculous puns.)

But it’s taken him this long to realize, that through the tours, the many hundreds of hotels throughout the years, simply being around his four boys-- Zayn was always home with his four-- with his _three_ brothers and someone who Zayn had always found himself wanting more from. 

But it’s too late. 

Too fucking late.

And if he sleeps with the damn elephant that night for the first time in years, well. 

Niall isn’t around to notice.

Or Harry, or Louis.

And especially not Liam. 

\--

“Zayn!” a muffled, echoed whisper sounds at his ear. He groans at the feel of the sun’s warmth over his eyes, tossing over with the sounds of his comforters rubbing against one another as Zayn attempts to pull a pillow over his head.

He’s stopped when the pillow is tugged out of his arms and his husky tone is mumbled and incoherent for the time being, but he’s hoping whoever's trying to wake him will leave him alone. 

“Go ‘way,” he mutters, letting himself plant his face into the bedded mattress.

“Zayn!” the shrill voice returns, this time with a hand on his ankle, tugging him in a slanted direction with his foot eventually hanging off the edge despite his light kicks in the air.

“Waliyha, leave me alone.” Zayn gruffs out, attempting to pull himself back up onto his bed and away from his sisters hold.

“Mum says you’ve gotta come upstairs-- _Zayn!_ ” she exclaims, letting go of his ankle and running a hand through her stray hairs, huffing out a breath. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” is the last thing Zayn manages to hear and while he should be nervous about that fact, he ignores it. He’s alone in the stillness of his room and if he gets just a few more seconds of that, he’ll be able to go back to sleep which is all he really wants. 

It isn’t until he feels the immense rush of water and ice being spilled on him does he gasp, eyes opening wide, as he jumps up and out of the bed for dear life.

It’s too late. 

His bare chest and black shorts are _soaked_ and he is left shivering.

“You areshole!” Zayn calls out through a clatter of his teeth, but Waliyha’s already out of the room, the door becoming her shield. 

“Mum says you’ve gotta come down _now_ ,” Waliyha states a final time. “But you might wanna clean up.” She beckons with a smug expression painted on her face. 

Zayn’s primary thought is to get warmed up, so he continues shivering all the way towards his bathroom. 

“I hate you,” he chatters, entering his bathroom and shutting the door behind himself.  


~

Zayn doesn’t listen to much of Waliyha’s words, not like he ever has, and he takes a good solid nine minutes to shower and get dressed. Wal never comes around again though so he figures whatever his mum had wanted is now probably a long gone memory, still, though. He needs to make sure of it.

Running his slim fingers through his moist jet black hair, he shakes his head out of a few droplets before descending down the stairs and heading towards the living room. 

He has to stop himself midway though, because there’s a voice. 

A voice he’s only heard so much through interviews, the radio, and cd’s and. 

_Liam._

He feels a light shove coming from behind him and, when he turns around to face the culprit, his father is stood before him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Go on, now,” Yaser whispers, nudging his head towards his mum and Liam’s general direction. “Before he’s up and gone, Beta” And his baba, bless him, squeezes a comforting grip to his shoulder before Zayn exhales a shaky breath-- one he should’ve seen coming given how it comes out louder than intended. 

His father’s hand slides down to the small of his back, coaxing him to take the steps necessary to enter the living room.

And when Liam’s crinkle eyes fade, now staring at him in thought, Zayn feels the comforting touch of his baba gone and he’s-- this is-- 

“Zayn,” Liam smiles, and that seems to soothe out the ugly story to their separation, as he stands up, walking over to Zayn and immediately enveloping his arms around around Zayn’s frame.

Zayn could cry, honestly. It’s the first thought that pops into his mind as he’s inhaling the scents that are so _Liam_. Smelling of sun and fresh after shave with the scents of his fabric softener sprinkled onto his black cotton henley. _Fuck._ They were always, always, always a weakness to Zayn. But that’s not necessarily what Zayn’s focusing on, no. Zayn realizes in that moment that if he had to, he could smell this and nothing else in the world.

“We’ll just leave you two alone,” he hears his mum speak out, the two boys--men, really-- part from the hug and Trisha places a gentle hand on Liam’s shoulder with a warm smile. “You’re welcome to stay for as long as you’d like, okay, sweetie?”

“Thank you, Trish,” Liam responds politely, his attention soon deriving back to Zayn’s once both of Zayn’s parents are gone. 

And then there were two.

Zayn’s got this uncertain expression on his face, but Liam? The corner of Liam’s lips are curving and _can he stop doing that?_ Because, last time Zayn knew, he took the first step out of the band that initially tarnished the future of One Direction, he was the one who couldn’t fucking deal with Liam and his girlfriend, he’s the one that was--is--prone to mucking up everything. So why the hell is Liam looking at him like that?

“What?” Zayn asks, suddenly self-aware. He knows his hair is a mess, so maybe that’s it. Or. Maybe it’s the snake tank he got from Liam back in Australia of 2013-- listen, that had not been intentional at all and maybe Liam thinks otherwise and-- 

Zayn’s kind of panicking and he doesn’t fucking understand why. It’s just--it’s Liam. Liam two years later with hair that reminds him of the beginning of the Where We Are Tour back in 2014. His stubble just peeking from his face, maybe a day’s worth of no shaving, something Zayn’s noticed Liam does every now and again in pictures and interviews. It’s surprising, really, given how much Liam loved his beard. 

“Nothing,” Liam responds, pulling Zayn in carefully for another hug. Zayn goes pliant to the touch, his eyelashes resting against his cheek before tightening the embrace. 

Liam chuckles quietly, the feel of lips reaching the side of Zayn’s head and hair. “Missed you, too.” 

And Zayn doesn’t argue nor comment on that. Because, well. No words need to be expressed, do they? Liam knows, still _knows_ , what Zayn means to say by the simple gesture. At least that’s some extreme wishful thinking on Zayn’s part.

“You know I wasn’t talking to you, right?” Liam responds quietly against Zayn’s ear and Zayn’s body becomes stiff because… _what?_

Hesitantly, Zayn loosens his grip from around Liam, letting his hands drop to his side as he pulls away from Liam slightly only to find Liam looks far too amused for the shit he just said and Zayn’s suddenly feeling really annoyed and _stupid._

Liam’s finger points to the corner of a room and Zayn turns towards it, the sight of what Liam had his attention on becoming a realization of the words Liam had spoken. 

“I fucking hate you,” Zayn laughs mid-breath from fucking _relief_ , pushing away at Liam who takes one step back at the unexpected sudden force. 

Liam grins, taking that step forward once again, reaching for Zayn who shakes his head vehemently. 

“No, you can fuck off,” Zayn laughs, once Liam has his arms around his waist, fingers prodding at his sides in a tickling fashion. “Go make out with your damned elephant, you arsehole,” Zayn continues, and now he’s got both hands planted on Liam’s chest with arms bent as he takes a step back and then another, the laughter sounding against the walls. 

Liam’s frame is clearly slightly wider than Zayn, body toned in all the right places as it’s always been, and while Zayn used to be positive he could take on Liam, (they used to wrestle on stage loads. Not to mention Zayn was quite the fan of tossing Liam over his shoulder here and again), Zayn knows now that that’s an improbability. Not because Liam’s looking like the Green Hulk or anything, no. Because he’s not. He looks amazing (as always) and healthy and Zayn still really can’t believe he’s actually in front of him but. Zayn just hasn’t been working out much at all these past two years if he’s being entirely honest with himself and others. Maybe a light jog down to the park once every other week will be of Zayn’s regime, but other than that? Zayn’s had no time. 

“C’mere!” Liam whines, his arms wrapping around Zayn’s frame before pulling him in tight, his nose burying itself in Zayn’s neck. The warmth Liam is blowing out against his bare skin begins eliciting goosebumps across his skin. Zayn can’t help but think what the hell Liam is trying to do with him. 

Zayn feels a proper kiss being pressed at his skin and before he even has time to think about the gesture, Liam’s head is at eye level again with Zayn, fucking _beaming_ at him all before he goes around Zayn to reach for the stuffed toy and holding it in his hands, admiring the little piece of what had been one of the many wonderful memories he had of Liam Payne. 

“Can’t believe you actually kept it. I’d forgotten all about it,” Liam admits, turning towards Zayn. “Then you tweeted about it, what? A month or two ago?”

“You saw that?” Zayn questions with furrowed eyebrows because what the hell would Liam Payne be doing going through his tweets?

“I feel like you forget you used to be a part of One Direction,” Liam speaks thoughtfully with a small smile at hand. “You’ve still got a hefty amount of followers, y’know. Including meself.”

“I do _not_.” Zayn retaliates, because, he doesn’t. He really doesn’t. It’s just. Liam’s-- Liam is something else, okay? He’s. There are no words Zayn can conjure to describe him. But, Liam’s--Liam. He’s special, he’s wonderful, he’s talented and driven and has amazing work ethic and he’s so mature, has been for a long time now, and Liam’s really just loving life and. The most important thing of all that? He’s everything Zayn imagined Liam would be with these big dreams of his. And Zayn’s so fucking proud, he’s been so fucking proud despite the bitterness he undergoes from time to time, but not because Liam’s made it on his own-- no, never that. 

More so because, well, Liam never really needed them, did he? Never needed Zayn, never needed-- 

“So do I get it back now?” Liam questions, a cheeky grin oblivious to the inner turmoil Zayn is facing. 

Zayn makes an offended expression before snatching the toy from Liam’s hold after a snort. “Hell no.” 

His mind can’t stop turning and he’s wondering why Liam isn’t, like, questioning him or, oh, not being angry at him as he should?

“This is what people call abduction, you know,” Liam reasons, voice nothing but teasing and _warm._

Warmth. Nurturing. Bright. 

Liam literally being a piece of the sun is the only explanation, Zayn decides. 

“You _gave_ it to me," Zayn exclaims with a finger pointing at his own chest. Liam’s mouth is left agape as he exhales a dramatic breath before whatever he’s preparing to protest is over voiced by Zayn. "How’s touring been?” Zayn lets out abruptly, saying fuck it in his mind only to immediately wish to take it and stuff it back into his mind.

Liam’s grin falters for a moment before it comes back to life, a shrug at his shoulders. “Ace, mate. I’ve had a sick time.”

And Zayn can’t help it when he slowly lets his head fall, a very subtle nod coming because. Yeah. Never needed Zayn, did he?

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s been a dream on top of a dream. But,” Liam stops. One second, two seconds, three seconds, Zayn’s head goes up out of pure curiosity. He raises an eyebrow at a very attentive Payne before he’s licking his chapped lips and Zayn has to look away for a second.

“I’ve missed the lot. You. It’s a lot different not having you guys on stage with me and all,” Liam admits and the small wanton side of Zayn is saying _Good, I’m glad._ But Zayn knows he really wouldn’t mean that. He’d give Liam the world if Liam hadn’t already taken the majority of it on his own. Y’know, technicalities. 

It takes Zayn a moment to realize that Liam’s lips have stopped moving and-- where did the sound go-- oh fuck.

“You’re doing ace on your own, man. You’ve wanted it for so long and, like, it’s cool, right? You’re living the dream on top of the dream, like,” he stops because, “Like you said. Yeah.”

Liam cocks his head, the corners of his lips curving ever so slightly. “You okay, babe?” 

“I--” Zayn begins because what he wants to say, to let out in the open, is _Yeah, I’m good. Why wouldn’t I be?_ but what really comes out ends up being something like, “Why’d you stop, like. Calling and stuff?” 

And he has to look away, can’t bear the look on Liam’s face, whatever it may be. His teeth are gnawing at his bottom lip nervously and he’s gripping at the elephant in his hands. 

The sound is deafening and Zayn would think he’d hear his mum and dad’s chatter in the kitchen, but none of it comes. They’ve probably gone out to the yard to work on the garden, or something of that sort. 

Zayn hears Liam’s steady breath before Liam starts up, “You’re the one that pushed me away, remember?” And the tone doesn’t sound accusatory, no. But it does sound a little wounded and-- Zayn fucking _hates_ himself. 

He knew that’d be the answer, he knew he’d been the problem. But he was so willing to think that. Maybe, Liam had another motive for never trying again. Because that wasn’t Liam, was it?

To give up on the things he loved-- liked, whatever. 

(Zayn isn’t daft enough to think Liam’s never liked him. The circumstances in which that could be extended, that’s another story.)

“Zayn?” Liam calls out quietly. Zayn manages to see Liam’s hand before feeling it hook under his chin with his index finger before Zayn’s eyes are forced to look up at Liam who’s looking at him with this-- this look of reassurance and. Zayn really doesn’t deserve it. “It’s okay, yeah?” he begins, dropping his hand back to his side with a shrug. “Wasn’t gonna let you stay away forever, y’know?” 

Zayn really doesn’t deserve this. Nor does he deserve to smile over that, but Liam’s smile has always been like an infection. Spreading like wildfire and burning him from the inside out, warmth being brought forth as Liam wraps him up in his arms, nearly squeezing the life out of him until Zayn is muttering a fond, _“Liam, I can’t breathe.”_

Liam laughs and lets him go only to utter, “Your mum promised me some samosas for dinner, so. If it’s okay with you, you think we can catch up until then?” 

And Zayn agrees because saying no to Liam is not something he wants to go through again. 

~

So, that’s what they do.

They catch up on everything and anything that comes to mind.

Liam’s schedules, the interviews, the fans, the lifestyle Liam continues to thrive off of and continues to work his ass off to maintain because _this is my life, Zayn. I’m right where I’m meant to be._ And Zayn’s heart squeezes within his chest because Liam still talks about his job with so much love, joy, and genuine humbleness like he hasn’t been in the music industry for over six years. With topics changing here and there, they end up talking about her and Zayn bites his tongue and tries to remain interested but it’s only when he hears of a permanent end of said relationship does Zayn’s ears perk up and genuine curiosity is peaking through. 

Liam’s sweet, always. Never speaking negatively of anyone because _I can’t speak poorly of people-- I’d feel horrid._ So he puts it simple and in a sentence. _"Things just didn’t work out-- it’s okay, though."_

And that but (that Zayn lived, has lived, with on a constant since he realized he was in love with his best mate years ago) seems to come forth to his mind before Zayn, himself, is pushing the thought away because. What are the fucking odds that he’d be thinking selfishly after Liam’s gotten out of a serious long-term relationship? 

He’s a shit person.

Liam breaks him from that thought, though, because Liam’s interested in what Zayn’s been into and Zayn just.

Zayn has to admit, that in comparison to Liam’s accomplishments, his feel miniscule but Liam clearly sees it differently given his, _Zayn! You’re turning into a proper English teacher now, aren’t you?! Now you can teach me how to spell big words like supercalifragilistic…_ and it never comes off as fake and maybe it’s the words, or the hug that follows, or maybe a little bit of the both that has Zayn wondering how in the hell he could ever let Liam go in the first place.

~

They eat dinner together with his mum and baba and two of his sisters with Don long moved out, living life as she should-- to its fullest-- and it’s nice. Nothing feels different, even though Liam is there sitting right across from Zayn eating at the samosas his mum had prepared for them all with a smile placed on his lips every so often. 

Liam even lets out this beautiful laugh along with Zayn’s family that Zayn has missed so much, once Waliyha spills how Zayn hasn’t left the damned elephant out of his sight since their dog nearly demolished it. And when Zayn feels his face flush with color, he feels a nudge at his ankle before he’s realizing, with eyes set on Liam’s small smile staring back at him before turning his attention to Trisha, that it’s _Liam’s_ ankle hooking with his. 

Zayn long stopped questioning why Liam fit in so easily with his family, with him, and it seems that not even time has changed that. Zayn’s genuinely so grateful for that.

~

Liam has three days off before he’s wanting to go head back home, Los Angeles, because of _course_ Liam would move to a place where he could further his career with the best of producers and writers in hopes of becoming the next JT. (Not like Liam’s said that himself, Zayn can just see it. Liam’s already done so well and it’s no doubt in Zayn’s mind that Liam, one day, will be an icon in music. Zayn doesn’t doubt it for a second.)

Within those three days that Liam has, the days are blank and without any permanent plans given he’d spent the past two nights with his crying, proud mum and dad. 

So naturally, Zayn, selfish bastard that he is, asks Liam to spend the night. And Liam simply fucking beams at him and accepts the request.

So that’s why they’re in the current position where they are. 

Zayn’s sitting half on his ass and half on his back on a rundown couch with a game console in hand. Liam’s legs are spread across his lap, both set of eyes attentive on the game of COD on the telly.

They’ve gone through the hour where they spouted curses and laughs and acted like complete morons accidentally bombing players of the same team as theirs for the soul act of feeling rebellious and stupid. 

And naturally, their energy is soon exhausted and they’re left quiet in Zayn’s comforting childhood room. Zayn manages his sixth yawn and Liam’s calling it a game before setting the controller onto the carpeted floor. Zayn doesn’t protest and instead turns off the system, his hand dropping down to Liam’s leg, and he’s gripping below the knee before another yawn wavers past his lips. 

“Can I ask you something?” Liam questions unexpectedly, both hands resting on his stomach with eyes staring at the empty, white ceiling. 

Zayn rubs a thumb past the material of Liam’s jean obliviously, his tongue swiping at his lips before nodding his head. “Sure.”

Liam doesn’t speak out immediately, instead there’s this daunting silence that is making Zayn far more uncomfortable with every passing second.

“If you didn’t like ‘er, why’d you never tell me?” 

And, okay. Maybe Zayn’s not entirely confused by the question but. At the same time he is because _where did that come from?_

“What?” 

“Soph,” Liam starts up, placing both hands on his side before he’s sitting upright, moving his legs off of Zayn and setting them onto the floor. “If you didn’t like her, why did you keep it to yourself and not tell me?”

“I didn’t not like her,” Zayn begins, because he might be a dick within his thoughts but. He’s got morals, okay?

 _“Zayn,”_ Liam begins, and Zayn looks over at him only to catch a relaxed expression on Liam’s face, “c’mon. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m _not--_ ” he stops, because. He has no reason to stop other than the fact that, Liam’s right in a sense. 

Zayn doesn’t want to lie anymore, fuck.

“It wasn’t my place,” he settles with. Easy, simple. Nothing offensive.

“Oh, come off it,” Liam begins with, but apparently he’s not finished. “Were you really jealous of her?”

Zayn’s sure had he snapped his neck over to look at Liam any quicker, he would’ve snapped his neck off. _“What?_ ” 

And there’s this smug little smile on Liam’s face and Zayn kind of wants to punch it off of him. 

“Nothing,” is the response Liam settles with and now Zayn really wants to punch that smile off of him.

“Who the fuck told you this?” he’s asking hastily, standing up abruptly in question. Liam only shrugs his shoulders at the question and Zayn is seriously going to punch something because whoever told him just betrayed his fucking trust and -- 

“You might be a mystery to a lot of people, Zayn. But--” another small shrug, eyes intent on the ceiling, “not to me.” 

Zayn has to bite back the question at the tip of tongue of how exactly this is the case because as much as Zayn would like to tell Liam that he’s wrong, Zayn know’s he’d just be lying to himself. 

“You really think I didn’t notice how you never wanted to go anywhere she was, or, like. How you’d force smiles at ideas and plans that involved her whenever I asked for your help?” 

Zayn has nothing to say. He doesn’t. There’s no way he can justify anything when his brain is running amuck. He couldn’t have been that obvious, could he? 

“She’s the reason we had that final argument,” Liam adds and Zayn kind of just needs him to shut up because _he knows, he knows, he knows._

“I thought about that a lot, y’know. Like. Just how you reacted that night before you decided to leave the band,” he’s speaking calmly, quietly, almost as if what he’s saying is some top-secret information he’s letting Zayn in on. But his eyes never meet Zayn’s. Always intent on that damned ceiling. “It seemed dramatic of you, at first, y’know? Like. Does Zayn really wanna quit the band cos of me bothering him with girl help? Then, like. I stayed up all that night you actually did quit, right? Just thinking, over analyzing and that’s when it clicked.”

Zayn, as mortified as he is, looks over at Liam who’s looking at Zayn with this-- this _expression_ that really shouldn’t be doing this to his heart. 

“You and Perrie hadn’t been talking,” Liam starts up, the shuffling of him sitting up almost, not really, covering the thudding heart in Zayn’s chest, “I remember, cos. Like, I’d ask you if you wanted to double up and you’d always decline and then you’d go home for the breaks and you’d never go to visit her, so.” His elbows are on his thighs, hands clasped together, “Y’know, at first I thought you wanted to go through with the wedding and leaving the band was the first step.” 

“It wasn--”

“It _could’ve_ been. And I’ll be honest. That theory pissed me the fuck off, cos, like. You’re my best mate and you and I had made a shitload of promises to do things together around the world. Like, try jaguar milk in Brazil to, like, going Skydiving in Rio."

"You and your obsession with Brazil," Zayn cannot help but let out fondly, the ends of his lips curving up ever so slightly as he paces quietly around his room, picking up trinkets and magazines, just to keep him distracted momentarily.

Liams cheeks and neck flush with color but he still isn’t finished speaking. “What happened with you two?”

“Could ask you the same,” Zayn can’t help but retort back with, his back to Liam, as his lower lip is brought in between his teeth. 

Zayn misses Liam jutting out his bottom lip with furrowed eyebrows before exhaling out a breath. “You know the answer to that, Zayn.” 

Now it’s Zayn’s turn to furrow his eyebrows. “No, I don’t,” he manages, turning to face Liam carefully, slowly.

Liam doesn’t seem to believe it all that much, so he purses his lips in contemplation. “Remember that night in Vegas, after Nialler’s birthday and we stayed up in my room for like, an entire day. Just the two of us?” 

Zayn tries, really does try, not to let pigment color his cheeks because. 

“You were so off your face that night--”

“So the fuck were you!” Zayn isn’t too late to retaliate which only allows Liam the moment to laugh at Zayn’s bemused expression. 

“We, like,” Liam begins, now seemingly finding it hard to go on. Zayn doesn’t need Liam to go on any further. He knows what they did. He knows the acts they had done, together, with one another, that night while still having girlfriends, it was all bad. But. 

It really wasn’t, even though Zayn knows it should’ve.

But it just wasn’t.

“Yeah, I know,” Zayn responds, saving Liam from whatever he’s feeling. Embarrassment? Regret? Zayn doesn’t want to find out. 

“It’s always been different, hasn’t it?” Liam starts up again, leaving Zayn to question what exactly has been different. “You and I, I mean.” 

And, yeah. Yeah, Zayn guesses it always has been different with them. 

“Like. That wasn’t the first time. And. I’ve always tried to ignore it, tried to think it was really just, y’know, _normal_ , I guess.The thing you and I had, but. It just--”

“It wasn’t,” Zayn finishes off, a small nod as he takes in a large inhale, his chest puffing out before it’s exhaling the breath.

Liam puts both hands on his side that’s opposite to the couch, pushing himself to stand upright. He exhales out a breath. And Zayn thinks that, this is it. Liam’s done for the day and he’s going to leave. But then he’s taking steps towards Zayn, halting just before him as if he’s debating some internal thought. 

Zayn stares intently at him, brown eyes boring into his soul and Zayn’s breath catches and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as Liam rests a hand on his cheek, thumb tracing his cheekbone. 

Liam licks his lips, eyes trailing from Zayn’s lips to his eyes and then repeat before Liam’s moving in closer, his warm breath fanning over Zayn’s and Zayn just--

He stops Liam with a hand on Liam’s right pectoral his head bowed as he shakes his head with eyes shut as he speaks out in a whisper, “You can’t keep doing this to me, Liam.” 

Liam, through the look of confusion he’s sporting, hooks his index finger with knitted eyebrows as he brings Zayn to eye level. 

_“Always?”_ Liam lets out, his hand spreading like wildfire behind the nape of Zayn's neck and now it’s Zayn looking at Liam like he’s gone absolutely mad. 

“I can’t be your second anything, Li-- I won’t-- I can’t,” he tries to explain and his eyes are building up with traitorous tears but. It’s not like he can hide them from the man who’s looking at him like he’s the only thing that’s worth the look, worth his time. 

“I made a promise with you,” Liam begins, bringing Zayn in, settling his forehead against Zayn as he’s speaking with such caution, handling each word with such care, “After you’d said you’d stick around. _Always,_ remember? I wasn’t fucking about, Zayn.” Liam’s thumb is creating soothing circles just at his pulse point, the hairs on the back of Zayn’s neck standing up involuntarily. “I knew what I was promising. And I know, like, I know how shit of me it was to make such a promise whilst being with-- but I just. I’ve always seen you there with me in the long run. _You_ and I fighting over what fucking coffee table to buy for our first apartment. _You_ I’d get to wake up to and kiss whenever I so damn well pleased. _You_ I’d adopt a fucking dog or cat or gerbil with. It’s _always_ been _you._ Not second, not third.One and only, Zayn. You. And I’m so sorry for taking so long, for all of it, I just-- I thought. I thought we’d figure it out in time and like. I’m _trying_ to sort it out now and--”

“Literally, Liam,” Zayn begins with a small sniffle, an arm wreathing around Liam’s torso, “if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now--”

And Zayn doesn’t manage to see Liam’s expression alter, the smile coming into view, but he sure as hell feels it as Liam’s lips press onto his, Liam’s hands both on the side of Zayn’s face before one is trailing up and threading itself into Zayn’s hair and the other is resting alongside his hip, bringing their clothed bodies flush against one another. Liam moans into Zayn’s mouth and it’s then that Zayn is quick to realize how long it’s been since the last time they’ve been in this position and how long it’s been since he’s had Liam to himself. Had Liam inside him. 

“Want you,” Zayn breathes out through messy kisses and clumsy hands trailing down to the hem of Liam’s tanktop only to pull it upwards, Zayn’s hands skimming the warmth of Liam’s belly as Liam’s abdominals flex at the touch and with a swift motion, Liam’s shirt is off. “Need you so _badly._ ”

Zayn nearly keens as Liam grinds against Zayn in a hurried motion, lips attacking at Zayn’s neck with a moan muffled between Liam’s lips.

Liam’s hands are at Zayn’s waist, and Zayn’s taking steps backwards as Liam does front, before Zayn’s knees hit the edge of the bed and Liam’s body is soon looming over him. 

Liam’s hands are set out on each side of Zayn’s head, panting warm breath in Zayn’s direction all while Zayn has his hands curling around Liam’s torso. Liam leans forward slightly, lips catching Zayn’s and the pace seems to slow down between them the moment Liam releases a, “Love you,” with eyelashes resting against his cheekbones, shivers running down Liam’s spine by Zayn’s simple touch rubbing up and down his sides, small nails digging into him. 

And Zayn swears, swears, swears that nothing had felt more right than being right then and right there with Liam that night.

And when Liam’s pounding into Zayn, a hand interlaced with another and lips peppering messy kisses to his neck with ‘So beautiful,’ ‘So fucking incredible,’ ‘I love you, Zayn, ‘Love you so much,’ and other nearly incoherent words being mumbled into his skin, Zayn knows exactly what he’s just discovered as he’s soon coming off his high.

He’s discovered home within Liam. 

\--

“Alright, Texas. Let me hear you once again, yeah?” Liam’s voice booms in the stadiums stereos. The crowd goes mad and Zayn manages to see Liam’s large grin, the crinkles by his eyes followed by the contagious, adorable laughter that fills not only his ears, but the ears of a 50k+ fans. 

“So,” Liam starts up again, and Zayn’s stood off to the side of the main stadium, not too far but not too close. He has a perfect visual of the large projected screen showcasing Liam’s face, snapback turned backwards on his head with a black tank covering his top half. "I want to share something with you guys, if that's alright," Liam continues, walking up the catwalk, a sense of swagger in every step that has Zayn smiling fondly because he can't help it. 

Liam walks past a few of his backup dancers, almost exiting the stage as a whole as he grabs something backstage before descending his way back down the catwalk as he speaks. But Zayn is glued to the item in Liam's hand and he’s grinning so hard his cheeks are beginning to hurt. 

"Once upon a time," Liam begins, holding the stuffed toy off to his side a bit as he stares at it and then out to the crowd, "this was thrown on stage at a One Direction concert right here in in this very stadium." 

The crowd screams at the recognition as Liam lightly chuckles before tilting his head in thought. "Bout eighteen months ago, or so. Long time, innit? Anyways, so, I actually gave it to a close mate of mine who's actually here tonight." The crowd’s cheers fill and ricochet off the stadium as Liam looks out into the crowd, stopping as he turns off to his left sight, eyes catching Zayn’s for a moment as he points over at him, "Everyone give it up for Mister Zayn Malik!"

The cameras catch sight of Zayn, the crowd going wild, and Zayn’s cheeks turn a warm scarlet at the sudden amount of attention. But despite that, he collects himself and waves at the camera with a careful laugh and Liam's attempts to speak up again start up once more. 

"I'd given this to Zayn when he was feeling quite poorly; he was missing home," he pouts, looking out into the crowd before looking over at Zayn, the pout turning into a giggle as Zayn kindly flips him off. "And now he's given it to me cos I've been missing home these past few weeks touring on me own." And this time, Liam's voice has gone softer as he looks at the elephant in his hands. 

"Anyways, long story short: this is kind of symbolic in a way for the both of us, and we've got Texas to thank for. Cos had it not been for this little thing," he stops, grins at Zayn and continues as he stares directly at him, forgetting for a moment that he's stood in front of fifty thousand people, "We still would've found a way, yeah? But. It just paved a way kind of easier for us to follow, keyword kind of," he laughs with Zayn staring intently up at him. 

He knows they hear the crowd and he feels the anticipation within the stadium but all Zayn cares for is Liam. So that's what he focuses on. 

"I guess what I'm trying to say here is that--" his eyes trail out towards the crowd and Zayn notices there's some hesitancy, his hands mildly shaking but he's got this grin that helps assure Zayn that this is what Liam still wants, them. "I love Zayn, and Texas may not have been where it all started, but it does hold some significance to us. So thank you for that, guys." 

Zayn’s ears seem to shut off, or maybe he's gone deaf by the magnitude of the yells because. They're out in the open now. They're real. They're. Zayn and Liam now. 

I love Zayn repeats itself in Zayn’s mind for the remainder of the night.

And when they're interlaced within the sheets that night, Zayn is adamant on Liam knowing just how much he loves him. 

"Always, yeah?" Zayn whispers into the quiet night, the sounds of their shallow breathing echoing off the walls with Liam's heavy, comforting arm wrapped around his bare torso. 

Liam shifts his body some, angling his body towards Zayn. And as cliche as it may have been for the both of them as Zayn admires the contours of Liams face with the luminescent light of the bright moon, Liam smiles lovingly at Zayn before dipping down to kiss at Zayns lips. "Always."


End file.
